In the Safety of Your Head
by Carlough
Summary: Oneshot. What lies do our minds create for us? The real question is, could you really hate your life so much that a war is a better alternative? How long can you unknowingly straddle two lives before it all comes crashing down for good? Can you stay sane?


**This is something I really wanted to write; it wouldn't get out of my head. Sorry it's crap and pointless. It's a one shot, by the way. And yes, I know the line breaks are excessive. Deal with it.**

Normal font and _italics_ – **present day, but not the same "place"**

**Bold font in the story – the past**

**Line breaks – change in time or "place"**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Transformers or its characters. I do own the situations here.**

* * *

_"They aren't real, you know. Those people you talk about."_

_"Who are you to call someone else 'not real'? Maybe you're not real – maybe _I'm _not real. But them, they're real. I'm sure of it."_

_"That might mean something if it came from someone who had a grip on reality."_

_"I may have no authority over reality, but reality has me in a stranglehold."_

* * *

"Bluestreak, are you alright?" Prowl asked.

The gunner shot into a sitting position on his berth, vents working heavily. He could still see the white mech from his dreams, his nightmares. The one who always told him he was crazy. Sure, the white mech changed from time to time. Sometimes he had doorwings, sometimes he had red optics while others they were blue or gold, sometimes he had wings and sometimes he had a ground alt mode – sometimes he was even a femme!

But the one who always came back, no matter what, was the one with the cobalt blue optics and the short stature with the cultured voice and the cold, clinical manner. The other incarnations called him "the Doctor." He was the one who turned an annoying, creepy series of dreams into a bunch of horrible recurring night terrors with his "therapies" and "sessions" and his cruel, blunt logic. It wasn't like Prowl's logic, either, a truth about life and the world around you. No, the Doctor's logic was cold and ruthless, forcing Blue to see his side of things by cutting him down, tearing apart everything he thought was real, _knew_ was real.

The scary thing was that the Doctor didn't do this to be cruel, or to hurt Bluestreak's feelings. It was to help him, he said, to make him see the light, the truth. Even scarier, though, was that sometimes, when the nightmare _just wouldn't end_, Blue believed him.

"Bluestreak?" Prowl looked at his younger brother with a tinge of worry in his optics.

The younger Datsun jumped out of his reverie. "I'm fine Prowl. Don't worry about me."

"Was it the dreams again?" Prowl had learned when Bluestreak was very young that his youngest brother was subject to night terrors. The best thing to do was to get him to talk about it and reassure him that whatever had been said in the dream was not real, that he wasn't insane.

He wasn't at all surprised when Blue nodded shyly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"You won't let me leave until I do."

Prowl smiled softly and nodded. "You know me too well."

Blue laughed. "I do." His vents shuddered softly. "He was saying...that you weren't real. That I was crazy."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him he had no right to call others unreal."

"That's the Blue I know."

* * *

"_Honestly, we don't even know him anymore. He hasn't been lucid for long enough periods for us to really get to know him."_

"_What about when he was younger?"_

_The two shared uncomfortable looks. "When he was a youngling we were having a...rough patch in our relationship. Regrettably, we stopped paying much attention to him. We didn't even notice what was happening until it was too late."_

_The other of the couple looked at the Doctor beseechingly. "Can you tell us why he does this? What could have triggered it?"_

"_Well, sometimes, when younglings are going through a tough time in life, they make up a fictional companion, an imaginary friend. Sometimes they manifest these companions as a friend or pet, or in more severe cases, a family member such as a creator or co-creation. Did Bluestreak have anybody like this?"_

"_His name was Prowl."_

* * *

"**Bluestreak? Who are you talking to?"**

**The youngling looked at his carrier. "Prowl. He's my new big brother!"**

**The mech froze and looked at his creation carefully. "There's nobody there Bluestreak. You know you're an only creation."**

**Blue watched him in confusion. "But Prowl's right here!"**

**The door slammed. His sire was home.**

**Bluestreak's carrier sighed heavily. "I'm sure he is Blue. How about you and...Prowl, was it? How about the two of you go play in your room while I have a talk with your sire?"**

**The small grey youngling nodded happily and started out of the room. He stopped, turned, and gestured for something that didn't exist to follow before he scurried off to his room, chattering happily all the way to a mech who wasn't there.**

**His creator hadn't thought anything of his creation's new "friend" at the time. If only he had paid more attention.**

* * *

"_Ah, Prowl. I assure you, I'm quite used to hearing about him. Who next?"_

"_Smokescreen and Barricade, his 'other brothers.' They came not long after Prowl. More showed up after that: the twins Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Bumblebee the minibot, Jazz, Hound, Mirage, Wheeljack, Ratchet, Ironhide, Red Alert, Inferno, Cliffjumper – the list goes on and on."_

"_He never realized that they weren't real?" The Doctor's optics narrowed._

"_No; he always acted like they were right in front of him."_

"_Were there any other signs, anything else that changed?"_

"_He became more introverted, but you already know that. He started to recharge more, too. When he was younger Bluestreak was always online before us every orn, but he started to recharge in until almost late in the orn, and he hated being woken up."_

"_Why?"_

"_He said that waking meant he had to leave."_

"_Leave where?"_

_The bonded couple shared another look. "His home."_

* * *

Bluestreak jolted online once again. This time he was in the medbay. Looking down at his chassis he saw many new weld scars.

"What happened?" he asked nobody in particular.

"You got slagged over by a bunch of 'Cons, that's what." It was almost a relief to Bluestreak to hear Ratchet's angry tones. He could have laughed with joy at the sight of the crabby-but-worried CMO waving a wrench in his servo. "How many times do you have to be told not to run into battle like that?"

"Sideswipe needed help!"

Ratchet shook his helm. "He always needs help. Mental help."

Blue laughed weakly. Ratchet couldn't know, right? He didn't know. Only Prowl knew about his nightmares of being insane and he promised not to tell. Besides, Ratchet was already on to the next subject.

"You're off the roster for the rest of the orn. Go get yourself cleaned up, get a cube of energon, and get some rest. And go visit your brother too, will you? He keeps hovering around the medbay, and it's driving me crazy!"

Crazy? He wasn't crazy, he wasn't! _Calm down Blue,_ he told himself. _It's just an expression. He doesn't mean you._

"Sure Ratchet," he said brightly. He thanked the medic and left the medbay. As he walked, a shock hit his systems. It ran over him, bristling and burning each circuit it hit. Within moments it was over. Feeling lightheaded, Blue left for his room. Maybe he should just take a nap before seeing Prowl...

Bluestreak had just reached his room when the shock came back, stronger this time. He whimpered in pain before the world went black.

* * *

"_Welcome back to the real world, Bluestreak."_

"_This isn't real. This is in my head. Prowl said so."_

_The Doctor laughed bitterly. "A figment of your imagination told you so. Of course he did."_

_Blue felt hurt, but wouldn't let the Doctor know it. He knew he wasn't crazy. "He did. You can't make me think that he didn't."_

"_All right then," said the Doctor, though he obviously didn't believe Blue. "Your creators are worried about you, Blue. They would like to see you, but I can't allow that until you start to heal."_

"_They aren't my creators. My creators died in the fall of Praxus, and then my older brothers raised me."_

_Choosing to ignore the mention of Bluestreak's fictitious family, the Doctor chose to touch on another subject._

"_Bluestreak, Praxus doesn't exist."_

"_Of course not, not after the Decepticons destroyed it."_

_The Doctor sighed. "There are no Decepticons, Bluestreak. There are no Autobots. There is no Earth. There are no humans. There is no war. You are a youngling on Cybertron with delusions about your life that were created as a way to cope with your creators fighting."_

"_I might believe that if I believed they were my creators. But, humor me. Tell me again why I 'created my delusions.' Prowl wanted to know more about that; I'll tell him when I wake up."_

"_This isn't a dream, Bluestreak. This is your life. You need to face that. This is real. But I'll oblige your request._

"_When you were a youngling your creators were going through a tough economic situation. Because of this, they started to fight more often. They spent so much of their time worrying about getting by or fighting that you were lost by the wayside. You were lonely, so you created a friend who would be family to you, family who wouldn't ignore you or forget you; you created Prowl._

"_After a while, Prowl wasn't enough to support your need for emotional stimulation, so you created your 'brothers' Barricade and Smokescreen, and then you created your other 'friends.' But you soon became so wrapped up in your imaginary friends that you made a life to go with it. You created a war because, for some reason, you felt that a war that supposedly deactivated billions of people was a favorable existence than your real one as an ignored youngling with bickering creators."_

"_Now I know you're lying. Nobody would create a war in their head."_

"_You did. What I don't understand is why you cast your creators in such roles."_

* * *

"**Bluestreak, it's time to wake up. You can't recharge all orn."**

**The mechling onlined, but stared with frantic optics at his sire above him. "You!" he shouted, terrified. "You're evil! You're trying to kill me!"**

**He never saw how hurt his creator was. He could only see the brutal enemy staring him in the optics.**

* * *

"_That hurt him, you know," said the Doctor._

_Blue scoffed and shuttered his optics sleepily. "I hurt the feelings of someone who doesn't exist. I'm so sorry."_

_The Doctor could only sigh as the youngling fell back offline. Things were worse than he thought. They had to act soon if they didn't want to permanently lose him to his delusions._

* * *

"Bluestreak? Blue, c'mon, wake up!"

Blue onlined his optics blearily. Why did his helm hurt so much? Sunstreaker's faceplates were right above his.

"Oh thank Primus. You don't know how much you freaked me out when I saw you just lying on the floor like that. And you know I don't like to freak out. Anyways, Prowl has been bothering everyone all day since you were hurt. You were supposed to see him after you left the medbay. What happened?"

"I don't know," he muttered, rubbing his helm. "I felt like I was being shocked."

"Weird, mech. You should go see Ratchet about it. But go see Prowl first so he doesn't go crazy. And get some energon while you're at it! You look like slag, and I can't be seen consorting with slag."

Blue nodded, smiling. Same old Sunny. This was how it was supposed to be. He thought to himself, _I'm not crazy._

With a renewed spring in his step and a grin on his faceplates, Bluestreak left to reassure his older brother, preparing to talk his audios off while he was at it.

* * *

"_He's getting worse," said the Doctor. "He's completely in the belief that we are the fake reality."_

"_Can't we see him?" asked Bluestreak's sire, who had come alone this orn as his bondmate had a meeting at work. He couldn't help but feel responsible for all of this. He had been the one to lose his job as a miner which started his fighting with his bondmate. It had only hit home that something was wrong when his youngling stared up at him with those terrified optics. He would do anything to help his creation get better._

"_No, he only sees you and your bondmate as the characters he's cast you as in his own reality. If you tried writing him a letter, maybe, I could give it to him. It might help."_

_The tall mech nodded. The Doctor left him alone while he started a letter to his youngling._

* * *

"I'm fine Prowl," said Bluestreak, leaning in the door of Prowl's office.

"Oh really?" asked his brother, optic ridges raised in disbelief. "Then why did Sunstreaker just find you unconscious in your room? No, he didn't tell me, Red Alert did. And yes, I did talk to him about having cameras in the quarters."

Blue frowned. Why was Prowl so overprotective? He shook his head, smiling. He complained about it, but he loved having older brothers who cared for him as his did. It was so much better than being stuck alone with the nightmares.

"It was nothing. I'm fine, promise."

Prowl watched him for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. Go get some energon. You look like slag."

His youngest brother laughed. "So I've been told!"

* * *

_Through the viewing window of the residential suite, Bluestreak's creator watched his creation recharge. Blue had been here longer than he cared to remember, and was almost always unconscious. He wished he could talk to him, just once. Maybe he could get through to him then. But he couldn't talk to him, at least not yet, but maybe this letter could help._

'_Dear Bluestreak,' he wrote. 'It's your sire. I know you don't believe that I am, but I promise you that I am your creator just as you are my creation._

'_I'm not evil. I don't want to hurt you, nor have I ever hurt you or your carrier. At least, not physically. I can't help but feel that I somehow scarred you emotionally when your other creator and I started fighting. We were so busy screaming at each other that we forgot we had a sparkling.'_

* * *

"**Creator? Could you-"**

"**Not now, Bluestreak!" the two livid mechs shouted before returning to their own spat.**

"**If you hadn't been going out drinking high grade every night with your friends, maybe we would have enough credits to pay the bills!"**

"**Maybe if you weren't such a whiny femme all the time, I wouldn't need to drink!"**

**Bluestreak, forgotten in the background, slunk off to his room to go to recharge. His creators wouldn't play with him anymore, but his brother 'Cade would play hide and go seek with him if he asked really nicely.**

* * *

'_The Doctor says that in your reality you turned our fights into a war that ends Cybertron, and you placed myself and your carrier as the mechs at the leaders of the war. I can't understand why you placed your carrier as the "good" leader, other than that I was the one who was never home and when I was I tended to be overcharged. It hurts though, to know you think of me as evil, as an enemy. I would never hurt you.'_

* * *

Bluestreak sat in the rec room, idly sipping at his cube of energon while he spoke with Bumblebee.

"So who shot me, anyways?" he asked his yellow friend. The minibot snorted.

"You should be proud – Megatron himself. He's evil, mech."

_You have no idea,_ Blue thought.

* * *

_Blue's creator paused in his writing when the Doctor came in. "Bluestreak responded to shock therapy earlier to pull him from his overly long recharge bouts. We have an idea, that maybe with this more intense form of the therapy centralized on the part of his processors that he's devoted to this alternate reality, we could possibly destroy the reality and force him to face the real world."_

"_But – but couldn't that work negatively? Couldn't that make him lose any semblance of sanity he has left?"_

"_He's almost lost to us. It's our only hope."_

"_All right."_

* * *

Bluestreak left the rec room and made a quick trip to the wash racks. He was almost there when he felt the same shock from before. This time, it was much more powerful. He fell to the ground and withered in pain, twisting in on himself. What was happening to him?

"Bluestreak?" asked a frantic voice. Smokescreen came running down the hall. "Blue, what's wrong?"

He tried to speak, but couldn't. It was as if his vocalizer was being shocked with the rest of him. His processer felt like it was being fried in his helm. It burned and sizzled and felt like part of him was being destroyed.

Bluestreak could only try desperately to hold on as his world fell away around him.

* * *

"_The procedure was a success. The other reality should be gone now, but he will need to be carefully monitored. The road to recovery will be long and rough, but I think there's hope for young Bluestreak."_

_The sire of the youngling in question could only say one thing: "Thank you, for everything."_

"_Of course," said the Doctor. "I'll let you finish your letter."_

_He knew the letter wasn't really getting his point across – he wasn't good at writing things, he was a lowly Kaonite miner! Optimus was the one who could speak and write well. Still, he could try._

'_Blue, I know you'll miss your other reality, but we think this could help you acclimate to the real world. You may hate us for a while, but I hope that we can one day have a relationship with you._

'_I love you Bluestreak. We both do._

_Your Sire,_

_Megatron.'_

* * *

In an alternate reality, the Autobots mourned for one of their youngest soldiers. Prowl, most of all, wondered what had happened to his little brother. Smokescreen had found him passed out in the hallway. He was still alive, but he just wouldn't wake up. Ratchet said that he could remain in stasis lock for the rest of his life. Prowl could only hope that his brother would awaken one day. He knew that both he and Smokescreen would never forgive themselves, and if 'Cade knew, he would feel just as bad as they did.

* * *

High above all of these realities, Primus sighed. Poor, poor Bluestreak. So sad were the fates of those mechs who could cross between realities.

* * *

**This started off as a good idea and went downhill, around a corner, and dug a hole to the center of the planet. I'm sorry for unleashing this crap on you, but I really wanted to write it.**

**Review?**


End file.
